


Turned Sideways

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bullying, F/M, Plus-Size Reader, Reader-Insert, Rock Stars, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: When Y/n gets an opportunity to meet her favorite band backstage at their concert, she assumes they won’t even ask her name. But when she impresses the front man, Dean, with her voice and knowledge of their entire catalog of songs, it launches a chain of events that is sure to change her entire life.~~~~~~~~~“Hey, you, uh, already finished your histology for Microbio, right?”“Of course.”“Wanna fill mine out for me?"“I don’t…I don’t think that’s-”“You like BBD, right?” he interrupted and I just looked at him, confused how he would know my favorite band. “You wear the Black Duck shirt, like, once a week. It’s obviously your favorite. Did you get tickets for the show Friday?”“No. They were sold out by the time I had the money and I don’t buy from scalpers.”“I can get you in. My uncle works for the amphitheater and he lets me backstage for all the big shows. I can get you backstage.”“Backstage?”“Meet and greet. You wanna meet the Winchesters, Chunk?”“It’s Y/n,” I corrected. If we were going to meet BBD, I wanted him to know my real name. “If you get me backstage at the Big, Beautiful and Dumb show, I’ll have your histology work done on Monday.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 82





	1. Backstage

**Story Warnings** : self-esteem issues, bullying, mentions of drugs, some light drinking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Chunk!” a barely familiar voice called out across the courtyard and I cringed at the nickname that had been following me since middle school. I didn’t correct him on it, though, because showing that it bothers me only encourages them.

“Yeah?” I asked, hugging my Calculus textbook as I turn to him. He’s in my Microbiology class. Always on his phone. Never participating in class discussion. Too cool for the school he’s paying thousands for.

“Hey, you, uh, already finished your histology for Microbio, right?”

“Of course,” I answered.

“Wanna fill mine out for me? I’ve been kinda slacking in class ‘cause my new job’s been taking it out of me,” he lied.

“I don’t…I don’t think that’s-”

“You like BBD, right?” he interrupted and I just looked at him, confused how he would know my favorite band. “You wear the Black Duck shirt, like, once a week. It’s obviously your favorite. Did you get tickets for the show Friday?”

I shook my head. “No. They were sold out by the time I had the money and I don’t buy from scalpers.”

“I can get you in,” he offered, quickly. “My uncle works for the amphitheater and he lets me backstage for all the big shows. I can get you backstage.”

My heart was pounding at the idea. “Backstage?”

He smiled. “Meet and greet. You wanna meet the Winchesters, Chunk?”

“It’s Y/n,” I corrected. If we were going to meet BBD, I wanted him to know my real name. “If you get me backstage at the Big, Beautiful and Dumb show, I’ll have your histology work done on Monday.”

“Awesome. You got Facebook or are you one of those anti-Zuckerberg people?”

I rolled my eyes. “I will message you on Messenger, Alex.”

“Thanks…Y/n.” I could tell he had to stop himself from saying 'Chunk’ again.

“Pleasure,” I said, turning and walking away.

I messaged him when I got home and he responded almost immediately. He really wanted his work done for him. He told me where to meet him at the amphitheater on Friday and thanked me again and I started to freak out.

I’ve been a fan of BBD since I was fourteen…since they were a local band advertising themselves on Myspace and selling CDs out of the back of their car, since there were just three band members.

I met them once when I was sixteen and they did an all-ages show at a sandwich shop three towns over. I could barely even speak to them. I still have the CD that Dean, Sam and Cas signed for me. They blew up quick two years later and I hadn’t been able to see them play since.

Of course I devoured their music, knew every lyric to every song, and cut my teeth learning guitar by teaching myself their songs.

I had no idea what to wear to meet my music idols, men I drooled over and squealed about. I hated every outfit I owned. I hated all of my makeup. I hated me.

Somehow, though, I found an outfit that didn’t make me feel like a cow and makeup that flattered my face. I was at the amphitheater earlier than I needed to be, watching people walk around in their Black Duck shirts and trying to feel less anxious about meeting BBD.

Alex showed up a little before 6PM, wearing one of those RPG shirts that featured a grenade playing Dungeons and Dragons. It was obviously brand new, still had the creases from the Hot Topic shelf. “You aren’t wearing a band tee?” he asked, smoothing his hands down the front.

“It’s a bit redundant to declare myself a fan with a t-shirt when I’m at the show. My presence speaks to my fanaticism.”

He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Right. Hey, ya know there’s usually drugs in the backstage area, right? Like, will you be okay with-”

“I’m not a prude, Alex.”

“Well, you ready, Chunk?”

I rolled my eyes at his reversion to the nickname. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

His uncle greeted us, called me Alex’s friend, which we both rolled our eyes about, and let us into the backstage area. As we approached a big tent, I started to get incredibly nervous. They were right on the other side of that canvas wall. I heard Dean laugh and I almost stopped in my tracks. I forced my feet to continue moving across the grass. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I was not going to let my ridiculous anxiety get the better of me.

“Knock knock!” Alex’s uncle called out at the entrance. “Y'all got a minute for a couple fans?”

“Of course!” Garth Fitzgerald, second guitar and backup vocals. I’d recognize his upbeat voice anywhere. “Come on in!”

The tent was bigger than it seemed and there were two couches, a recliner and a long table in between. There were beers on the table but no signs of drugs. Dean and Sam, the Winchester brothers, were sitting on one of the couches together. Castiel, real name James Novak, was sitting in the recliner drumming out a beat on his knees with his Zildjian drumsticks, and Garth Fitzgerald IV, was sitting on the other sofa by himself.

They all smiled as we entered and Mr. Dickerson closed the canvas behind us. “This is my nephew, Alex, and his friend, Y/n.”

Alex jumped out in front of me and headed for the Winchesters. “I’m a huge fan! You guys are like gods on a guitar. It’s so awesome that y'all were born right there in Lawrence! I’m from Topeka, myself.”

“Awesome,” Dean said. He was smiling as he took Alex’s hand, but his voice told me it was just for show. “And where’s your friend from?” Dean looked around Alex to me and my whole face started burning.

“Uh, I dunno.” Alex twisted and looked at me. “We go to Donnelly together. Where are you from, Chunk?”

I cringed as the word left his mouth. Now my idols were gonna know me as 'Chunk’. “I’m from nowhere,” I answered, looking at my feet. “Smallest place ever. It’s called Lebanon. It’s way-”

“I know Lebanon,” Castiel interrupted. “It’s the epicenter of the contiguous United States.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt the Geography lesson, Cas,” Dean said, putting a hand out toward his friend and leaning forward and looking Alex in the eyes. “What did you just call her?”

“Oh, everybody calls her Chunk,” Alex said, chuckling.

Garth stood from his sofa and walked over to me. I was struck by how tall he was. “This guy’s not really your friend, is he?” He looked a bit sad for me and his smile was nice and soft.

I shook my head. “No. He said I could meet y'all if I did his Microbiology work,” I answered honestly.

“You wanted backstage so bad you’d put up with a guy like this?” Sam asked.

“Hey, that’s…Alex isn’t that-” Mr. Dickerson started.

“Dickerson, I know he’s your blood, but get your douchebag nephew outta here,” Dean said waving at Alex.

“Are you kidding me?! Just 'cause I called her Chunk? Everyone calls her Chunk!” Alex throwing a fit as his uncle pulled him out of the tent was actually one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.

“You wanna have a seat?” Garth offered, pointing at the sofa he was sitting on. He walked over with me and smiled as I sat on the edge of the cushion.

“Sorry to break up the party like that but, fuck, that isn’t even remotely okay.” Dean leaned forward and picked up his beer from the table.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“And that’s worse,” Sam said.

Garth picked up a small bottle of milk from beside the couch and twisted the top off. “You want a drink? There’s beer, apple juice, couple more bottles of this stuff, some sodas but I wouldn’t _recommend_ a soda 'cause that stuff so bad for your teeth.”

It reminded me that Garth used to be a dentist before he picked up a guitar and I smiled. “No, thank you. I’m good.”

“So, you go to Donnelly?” Sam asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” I looked down at my lap. “Biology major.”

“Oh, so you’re a science nerd. Cas is a bit of a science-y guy. He’s got a thing for bugs, especially. He’s an amateur etymologist,” Dean said. I opened my mouth to correct him, but then I shook my head and looked down at my lap again. “What? Did I say it wrong?”

“Well, I mean…” I looked up and bit the inside of my cheek before clearing my throat. “I think you meant 'entomologist’. That’s insects. Etymology is words, specifically where they come from and h-how they…e-evolve.”

“I’ve told him this,” Cas said, setting his drumsticks on the table. “I even gave him a helpful mnemonic to remember it. ’ _En_ tomology studies _in_ sects’.”

“Great. Now I don’t just seem stupid, I seem stubborn, too. Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, smiling. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue before kicking a foot at Castiel. “Tell 'er about your bees.”

Castiel’s bright blue eyes widened and filled with happiness. “Well, I only have one hive, currently. Honey bees. About ten thousand bees, total. Eighty-five hundred workers, fifteen hundred drones and a queen. My wife promised to care for them when I’m touring but I know she hired an apiarist to do it for her.” He leaned forward conspiratorially and smirked. “If I’m being honest, I prefer it that way. Few of my bees have died since she hired them.”

I smiled at him. This was definitely not the badass drummer the record label made him portray himself as. In fact, none of them were what the magazines and fan sites made them out to be. They were almost exactly what I remembered from when I was sixteen. I shook my head and looked at my lap.

“What?” Sam and Dean both asked, amused.

“Oh. I was going to say, Meg doesn’t seem the type to know her way around that sort of smoker,” I answered quietly.

The whole band laughed. “Wow, she’s got Meg’s number, doesn’t she?” Garth chuckled.

“She knows our wives. Should we be worried?” Sam asked.

“I’m not one of those stalker fans, I promise. I’m just…also not one of those fans that like to pretend your wives and children don’t exist. They’re a huge part of your lives…and they deserve some recognition, too,” I responded.

“If only for putting up with our junk, right?” Garth exclaimed, happily, pulling out an acoustic guitar from behind the sofa.

Dean shook his head as Garth started to play. I turned to watch his fingers slide along the frets, picking across the strings, a bit of a trance falling over me as he played one of their songs. “I always have trouble with that measure,” I whispered.

“What, you play?” Dean asked, snapping me out of the thrall.

My face heated up and I shrugged. “I…uh…a little.”

“You know ‘Fallen’?” he asked, and I nodded. “Hand her the guitar, Garth. I wanna see what the girl can do.”

I shook my head as Garth offered the acoustic to me. “No-no-no, I c-couldn’t. I’m not very-”

“Are you really gonna look me in the eyes and tell me ‘no’? You were willing to do Dickbag’s homework but you’re not willing to let me hear you sing?” I couldn’t avoid Dean’s eyes after that…and I couldn’t stop my hands from taking the instrument. “Awesome. Need a beat? Cas, give the girl a beat.”

I tapped my foot to the beat that Castiel thumped out on the table with his fists and started to strum the chords to ‘Fallen’, one of Big, Beautiful and Dumb’s most popular songs. I closed my eyes and played by memory, singing the lyrics and hoping I wasn’t making a fool of myself. I didn’t open them again until I strummed the final chords, handing the guitar immediately back to Garth. They were staring at me. "You could just say that I suck, ya know,” I whispered.

“This look is not suck,” Sam said, leaning forward.

“You were awesome. We were _awed_. I didn’t know that song could sound so fuckin’ pretty,” Dean said, sighing wistfully. “How long have you been playing?”

“Um, Black Duck came out in ‘09 so…ten years?”

“Wait, you started playing guitar because of Big Black Duck?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. Between the lyrics and melodies, I was absolutely inspired. I _had_ to pick up a guitar…and every album after just kept inspiring me.”

The band all looked between each other. “So you know all our music?” Dean asked, quietly.

“Yeah. I-I guess. I’m a little iffy on the chords on ‘Calla Creative’ but-”

“You should come on stage with us,” Dean said, suddenly. I laughed at what was obviously a joke, but the rest of the band just nodded in agreement. “I’m serious.”

“Wait, but…I’m not-”

“We’ll give you a mic, set you up with one of the extra six-strings, it’ll be awesome.”

“You can’t really want me up there with you,” I said.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. You’ll be fine,” Dean said, winking at me. I couldn’t argue with him anymore after that.

“Fine. I’ll be fine, whatever. But if I fuck up your concert, that’s on you,” I said, flippantly.

“Oh, and now she’s cursing!” Garth laughed.

“The fans will go along with whatever we tell ‘em to,” Sam said, taking a drink of his beer.

“Wouldn’t you?” Castiel asked with a smile.

“You say that like we’re sheep or something,” I said, chuckling.

“Less sheep and more…no, sheep is right,” Sam said, laughing.

I settled back into the sofa and watched as they laughed and talked and drank. It was almost an hour later when a tall man walked in. “We gon’ need you on stage in twen’y. You wanna warm those pipes first, boys?”

“Yeah, we’ll get it goin’. Hey, uh, go ahead and set up an extra mic for us, Benny. Y/n is gonna guest star tonight,” Dean said, standing.

My eyes went wide as the band moved to stand, towering over me. “You were serious?”

“I know, it’s so hard to tell with him sometimes,” Sam said, clearing his throat.

“But he was definitely serious,” Castiel said.

“Come on. We warm up with trills and humming and sliding octaves,” Garth said, excitedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me off of the couch.

Dean smiled at me, catching my eyes, and I almost melted. “Come on, kid. Let’s do this.”


	2. On Stage

**Summary** : Dean insists Y/n has a rock star hiding inside her.

**Story Warnings** : some light drinking, some self esteem issues, mostly good things

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a screen between the audience and the stage when I walked on. The audience couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. My heart was racing, knowing there were thousands of people on the other side of that screen and not a single one of them gave a fuck about me. Benny pointed to a microphone slightly out in front of the drum kit and I wrapped my hand around the stand. “Hey, Benny, can I move this?”

“I don’ see why not.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling and picking it up, moving it as far back from the front of the stage as possible. I would’ve been barely visible and that was just fine by me, but it obviously wasn’t fine by Dean. As soon as he walked onto the stage, he grabbed my mic and set it right in front of the drum platform. Front, center, and closer to the edge of the stage than before. “Come on, Dean. No one wants to see me.”

“ _I_ wanna see you,” he responded, handing an electric guitar to me. “Your set list is on the screen by the footlights. Just follow my lead. Do what you feel is right.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to have some sort of instincts on this shit.”

“You don’t know what kinda instincts you got ‘til you feel them,” he said with a wink. “You’re gonna do fine. I promise.” He patted my shoulder and walked away to his mic.

“Don’t worry. If you do poorly, we’ll let you know,” Cas said, taking his seat at the drums as Benny handed another guitar to Dean.

“Thank you so much. I’m suddenly filled with confidence.”

Dean adjusted the guitar strap and turned to look at Cas, who started to play the beginning beat of ‘In Theory’. I took a step back from the mic as the screen went up. The music began, I started playing. The lyrics began, I started singing backup. The crowd screamed their hearts out, but I couldn’t pay attention to that. I was stuck on the fact that I was being treated to a better than front row seat to the show.

When the song ended, Dean dropped his guitar so that it hung by its strap. “How the hell we doin’ tonight, Kansas City?!” The crowd screamed out their answer and we were hit with a wall of sound. “That’s what I wanted to hear! Now, y’all are in for a motherfuckin’ _treat_ tonight…because not only do we have Castiel on the drums!” Cas did a solo on his drums and the crowd screamed again. “And my brother, Sam, on the bass!” Sam did his own solo and more screaming followed.

“Garth Fitzgerald the fourth on backup guitar and keyboard!” Garth did a little riff on his guitar and then tinkled a few keys on the Yamaha. “And you may have noticed my friend behind me. This is Y/n and this lucky duck is gonna be helpin’ us out tonight. It’s a Make a Wish thing, I wished for some eye candy and who could deny me?”

My cheeks heated up as the audience laughed. “She wasn’t singing very loudly on that last song, so if the guys in the tech booth could please turn up her mic, I’d appreciate it.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh, fuck you.” It rang out across the amphitheater, loud and clear.

“That’s perfect!” Dean said with a triumphant smirk.

The next song loosened me up a bit more, but we were four songs in before I really let go. Suddenly, the crowd didn’t matter. The lights didn’t matter. Big, Beautiful and Dumb didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the music. The music I was slaying almost effortlessly. Dean turned to me as I sang with him, smiling like he knew. Like he was expecting my mental metamorphosis.

We played two more songs and I was having the time of my life. Dean moved over to Sam as we played ‘Run and Hide’ and as soon as we played the last notes, he ran to the drums and spoke in Castiel’s ear. Cas nodded, stood, and handed his stool to Dean before leaving the stage. Dean set the stool down as Sam and Garth followed Cas off stage.

“We’re gonna take a short break, but Y/n is gonna keep the party goin’ while we hydrate.” My eyes went wide, fear paralyzing me as Benny pulled the electric guitar off of me and handed me the acoustic I was playing in the tent. Dean adjusted his mic down and led me to the stool. “You’re gonna wow them with ‘Fallen’, just like you did for us, okay? Don’t get nervous now. You’ve been awesome all night.”

“Playing alongside you is different than doing it alone,” I argued.

“Not really. You got this. Just ignore them, close your eyes and play.”

I rolled my eyes as I took a seat on the stool. As he walked off the stage to join the rest of the band, I took a deep breath and started to play. There was no nervous pit in my stomach, no true apprehension. The crowd sang along with me, which was a wholly unique and amazing thing. As I strummed the last few notes, the crowd cheered. They cheered for _me_. It was amazing.

The band rejoined me onstage and we moved back to our positions. Benny switched out my guitar again and Dean handed Castiel his stool. We played five more songs, including two from Big Black Duck that I went completely crazy on, and then we left the stage. “How you feelin’?” Dean asked.

“Amazing! I can’t even…That, out there…” I lost my handle on my words and just shook my head. “Thank you for making me do this.”

“I knew there was a rock star in you, Y/n,” Dean said with a smile. “Now, Benny’s gonna take you back to the tent while we get this encore done. Drink something. You’re sweating buckets.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the amount of sweat soaking my shirt. Benny led me back to the tent. “So, you ain’t a musician?” Benny asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. I’m a scientist. But, you know…Brian May is an astrophysicist so…I’m not the first nerd to pick up a guitar.”

“Well, you look like you belong up dare. An’ you voice sounds real nice.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, sitting on the couch.

“Aquafina or Dasani?” Benny asked, opening up a Yeti cooler.

“Actually, could I get a beer?” I asked.

“Right on,” he said, grabbing a bottle and twisting the top off.

I took a drink and relaxed into the sofa. “Thanks.”

“No problem, missy,” he said, before walking out of the tent.

I stayed there by myself for a little while, thinking over the last few hours of my life, until the tent opened up and the band walked in. “That was the best show we’ve done in years!” Garth exclaimed.

“Usually, I’d say he’s exaggerating, but he’s not,” Dean said, sitting on the table in front of me and smiling.

“The crowd enjoyed your presence, Y/n, and you did a great job,” Castiel said, smiling.

“Thank you. I was just…caught up in your greatness. Seriously.” I took a drink of my beer. “You guys are the most amazing thing ever.”

“You like bein’ up there, though?” Sam asked, dropping his body onto the chair.

“Oh, yeah. I’d do it every day, if I could,” I answered.

“What if you could?” Dean asked, leaning forward. I shook my head in confusion. “What if you could be on that stage every time we are?”

I looked from Dean’s brilliant green eyes to Sam’s hazels. Neither of them seemed to be joking. I turned to look at Cas and Garth. They were just smiling. “Wait. What?”

“We want you to come with us. We talked about it while you were doin’ ‘Fallen’.” Dean smiled as Garth climbed over the back of the couch to sit next to me. “You belong up there. Your voice is amazing, you play those strings like a master, and Jesus, woman, you look great under stage lights.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t… _any_ of that.” I set my bottle on the table next to him and shook my head. “I’m not a musician.”

“Oh, come on! After that display out there, if you still don’t think you belong on a stage then you’re crazy, princess.”

My cheeks heated up at being called ‘princess’. After a lifetime of being called ‘Chunk’, it seemed absurd. “I-I can’t. I have to finish school.”

Dean rolled his eyes at me and I was too enamored with him to feel offended. “Gimme your number,” he demanded.

“What?”

“Gimme your number,” he repeated, pulling his phone off of the table. “‘Cause we’ll keep in touch and when you get done with the school where the assholes call you mean shit, we’ll get you in a studio or something. Where you belong.”

I gave him my number and he put it in his phone, but I was seriously doubting he’d ever call or text. Garth wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me. “You did a great job, Y/n! You’d never know that was your first time on stage!”

“Thank you,” I squeaked.

“Hey, we gotta get outta here or we won’t make it to the next show on time, but it was really good to meet you, Y/n,” Sam said, smiling.

“Yes, it was very fortunate that you got backstage, Y/n,” Castiel said, reaching out to take my hand as Garth and I stood from the couch.

“It’s been a night I’ll never forget. Thank you so much for letting me play rock star tonight.”

“If I have anything to say about it, it’s not gonna be the last night you play rock star,” Dean said, pulling me into a hug. I couldn’t help the way my eyes fluttered closed at the smell of his musky scent and the comfort in the embrace. He smiled at me when he pulled back. “Thanks for gracing our stage tonight. You completely turned around once the music was going. You impressed the hell outta us.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Hey, Benny, make sure she gets to her car safe, huh?” Dean instructed, as they all headed out the back of the tent.

“You sure made an impression on dem,” Benny commented as he walked me to the parking lot.

“Yeah. I…I don’t know how, really, but…It was a real good night.”

“I hope we get ta see you on da stage again. You looked happy up there, like you belong,” he said.

I shook my head. “I so don’t.”

“You don’ know dat. You look at the videos from tonight and see how happy you look up dare,” he said as we got to my car.

“Thanks, Benny. It was nice meeting you.”

“I guarantee won’t be da las’ time.” He winked before he walked away and I smiled as I got in my car.


	3. Online

**Summary** : It takes a while, but Dean eventually gets in contact with Y/n, and they forge an unlikely friendship.

**Story Warnings** : some light drinking, some self esteem issues, some mentions of Dean's shitty marriage, some flirting and junk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watched the videos of the concert, mostly shaky cell phone videos posted to YouTube, and I couldn't argue with Benny's assessment. Especially after I hit that high, that "nothing matters but the music" mindset, I looked really fucking happy. I don't think I've ever looked so happy as when I was on that stage.

I didn't mention it to anyone except my parents. It's not like I had a lot of friends to brag to. It was a cool story I would get to tell friends if ever I made some, though. My dad kept jokingly calling me 'Rock Star' which I thought was funny, and my mom kept asking when I thought Dean was going to get in contact with me. I shrugged it off every time, but I really didn't think he would. Why the hell would he?

When I showed up for class on Monday, Alex rushed me. "I can't believe you got me kicked out of the tent! And then you conned your way on stage?! How the fuck did you manage that shit? And if you didn't do that fucking histology work, I'm gonna fucking sue because we had a verbal contract and I fulfilled my end and-" He shut up as I pulled out a packet of papers from my backpack and held them out to him. "You did it?" he asked, taking the papers.

"Of course I did. I'm a woman of my word, Alex." I pulled the zipper on my backpack and sighed. "I messed up on a few of them so that Professor Sampson doesn't get suspicious."

He flipped through the pages, nodding. "Okay, yeah."

"And, for the record, you got yourself thrown out of the tent and you didn't deserve to be in the presence of BBD in the first place," I said, nonchalantly.

"What does that mean?" he demanded.

"Well, A- you're an asshole, Alex, and those guys are all amazing. B- you aren't even a fan. You just wanted to meet them so that you could brag that you had. That shirt you were wearing was brand fucking new and you have never showed interest in them before. You're a story-collector, that's all." I shook my head. "And I didn't con them into letting me on stage. I didn't want to be up there. They insisted."

"Well...th-thanks for this," he said before stepping away from my lab table to his own. I ignored his existence after that. He wasn't worth my time.

School moved like normal, home-life went on too. I moved on, happy to keep my experience onstage as an amazing memory. I wasn’t upset that I didn’t hear from Dean. I really never expected to.

So when I got a message from a random 512 number, I was expecting...I don’t know...spam?

**Hey**

I responded back with _**Who’s this?**_

The next text was **Shoulda put my number in your phone when I got yours. It’s Dean Winchester.**

I, of course, rolled my eyes. There was no way it was really Dean. It must have been someone catfishing me. _**Seriously, how’d you get my number? It’s not cool to pretend you’re a famous person and message fans.**_

I didn’t get a text back for a few minutes and I thought they were done until a video came through. I pressed play and the video opened up, showing a dark home recording studio and then Dean Winchester’s smiling face. “Now, don’t’cha feel silly for makin’ assumptions? It’s really me, Y/n. I’m gonna invite you to a Skype chat.”

I felt like an idiot as a text came in with the invite. I clicked on it and it opened up with the Skype app. He immediately turned it into a video call and smiled as my face showed up on the screen. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Dean.”

“Sorry, it’s taken me so long to get with you, Y/n. I was planning to text you the next day but there was tequila and then some personal junk and the rest of the tour but now we’re done and I’m available.”

“It’s totally fine. I obviously didn’t expect you to message me, at all.”

“Yeah, obviously,” he teased. “So, how’s school?”

“Pretty good, actually.” I shrugged and bit my lip. “H-how was the rest of the tour?”

“Pretty awesome. Kept getting questions about that hot chick we let onstage in Kansas City, but other than that...standard awesome rock tour.” My cheeks heated up at him calling me that. “You been keepin’ up your guitar skills?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I practice at least half an hour a day.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna send you some tabs,” he said, pulling out his phone and tapping on the screen. “I’m workin’ on a new thing. It’s not really a BBD song, too soft, but I think it might be somethin’ nice for a fresh new face’s debut.”

“Are you serious?” I squeaked. “You can’t be writing a song for-”

“I am writing a song for you, princess, so get used to the idea. If you want, I’ll write your whole first album. I got a lot of ideas that don’t mesh with the band’s sound,” he said nonchalantly, setting his phone down and picking up an acoustic guitar.

“You really think _I_ could make it in the business, Dean? I’m not-”

“Seriously with this shit again?” he interrupted, irritation in his voice. “If I didn’t think you have what it takes, I wouldn’t be so adamant about gettin’ you in the studio, on the stage, in the game. Come on, Rock Star. Work with me here.”

I smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

“All right then. Now, pull out your guitar, kid. We’re gonna run chords,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, sir,” I said, setting my phone up to lean against my desk and grabbing my guitar.

That was the first of our online meetings, which he decided would be a weekly thing. He wrote stuff, sent me tabs, I learned them before the next Friday Skype meeting. It worked out well for us that way.

As we played and pitched lyrics to each other and laughed and got so much more comfortable with each other...something happened, though. He started flirting...with _me_. Little things at first, like greeting me with ‘Hello, gorgeous’ and telling me my voice was sexy...but then he started taking the video calls shirtless and teasing me about how distracted I was about it...and then he started pitching raunchy lyrics about sex and specifically relating them to me and him.

“Dean, you have to stop that,” I said after he pitched a lyric that put the image in my head of him looking up at me from between my thighs.

“What? They’re just lyrics, kid,” he said, chuckling.

“You know what you’re doing and I’m not gonna let you act like I’m misunderstanding things,” I snapped, looking away from him.

He sighed and looked down. “You’re right, Y/n. You’re not stupid and you’re not misunderstanding anything. I’m...I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s just...you can’t tease me like that. It’s not nice...and you have a wife.”

“Yeah, technically,” he agreed under his breath, before picking up his shirt from the floor beside him and pulling it over his head. “You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He cleared his throat and sighed. “I think that’s enough for tonight. I’ll think up some appropriate lyrics for next week. Talk to you then, kid.”

“Dea-” The call ended before I could finish saying his name. I sighed and set my guitar on its stand in the corner of my dorm. “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” I said, grabbing my book and flopping on my bed. I was sure Dean wasn’t gonna call the next Friday. I had to have offended him.

But he was ringing me on Skype at 7pm, just like the weeks before. He had his shirt on this time and I silently thanked him for it. “Hey, princess. How’s school?” ‘Princess’ wasn’t as uncomfortable as ‘Gorgeous’.

“Good. End of Semester tests are next week. I’ve been killing myself on the studying. Thank you for granting me this little reprieve.”

“Oh, so you’re out for the summer soon?” Dean asked.

“That’s not really how it works in college, Dean,” I answered, smiling. “But I will have three weeks between the end of this semester and the beginning of the summer semester.”

“You don’t even get a summer break? Lame.”

“College, en masse, is fairly lame, but it’s my future on a plate so I deal with it. If I skip the summer semesters, it’d take a lot longer to finish the degree.”

He nodded. “But you’ve got three weeks off?”

“Yeah. After next week, I’ve got three weeks to myself.”

“Awesome. So, you get the song I sent you?”

“Yeah! I was humming the hook all day!”

“All right, what are you waitin’ for? Get your damn guitar, Y/n,” he demanded with a smirk. I smirked back as I picked my guitar up.

That evening, everything went just perfectly. We played, we sang, he came up with totally awesome lyrics that I confirmed were totally awesome and then he wished me luck on my tests and said he’d call again as scheduled.

My tests were draining. By the time Friday came around again, I was in desperate need of a break. I was drinking a beer when Dean called. He was in a car, which was very new. “Hey, you could wait to call me ‘til you get home, ya know?” I suggested, taking a drink. “I’m willing to wait.”

“Yeah, that’d be a long wait, princess. I’m about 700 miles from home. Well, from _my_ home, anyway. It’s weird you guys only have one dorm building. Is it, like, girl dorms on the first floor, boy dorms on the second?”

I squinted at the screen, trying to see the area around his car. “Are you at Donnelly, Dean?”

“Yeah. Didn’t know it was a Christian college, but that giant cross on the Admin building leaves no question on that.”

“It’s a Catholic college,” I corrected. “Why are you _here_?”

“Because you’re outta class and I think that deserves a night of fun! Now, come outside and get in the black Impala,” he commanded.

“Wh- is that your car?”

He rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with them. “Outside, princess. Big, black, beautiful, American-made classic car with a rock star behind the wheel. Come outside.”

I looked down at my outfit. It was...underwhelming. “Give me five minutes to change and-”

“Nope. I can see you’re wearing clothes. Good enough for me. Let’s go, kid.”

I groaned and stood. “Fine, I’ll be out in a minute.” I turned off the call and sneered as I passed the mirror by my door. “Chunk is on the way,” I muttered to myself as I walked out of my dorm and headed for the parking lot. There was a very pretty, very large, shiny black muscle car in the closest guest parking spot and Dean waved at me as I approached. I pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. “You didn’t drive all the way here from Texas, did you?”

“Of course I did! You think this is a rental or something? Nah, this is my Baby. I bought her from my dad with the first royalty check from the first album. Now, where can we get shots around here?” I chuckled and directed him to the closest bar. It was packed with other students letting loose after their tests. “Wow. Standing room only, huh? Reminds me of when the band started. We used to play bars like this,” he said, walking up to the bar and ordering several drinks.

We found a tiny table in the corner and took seats in chairs that were bolted to the floor and practically on top of each other, which was good for our conversation. We didn’t have to shout over the sounds of whoever was on stage doing karaoke. “So how long was that drive?” I asked, taking a drink of the vodka and cranberry juice he bought me.

“ _So_ long,” he answered. “But it’s been a long time since I had an opportunity to get the Impala out on the highway, really let ‘er horses gallop. She’s been in the garage under a tarp for, shit, like two years. Lisa doesn’t like how loud she is so we’ve got a fuckin’ Audi.” He rolled his eyes and I chuckled.

“She is a loud machine...but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Dean smiled and took a drink of his whiskey. “Lisa refuses to call my baby ‘she’. Calls her ‘it’. Pisses me off every time.” He shook his head and licked his lips. “So, how you think you did on your tests?”

“I won’t know for a few days, but there wasn’t anything I was completely lost on, so...I think I did good,” I answered, smiling.

“Awesome. I’m sure you did a great job, Y/n.” My cheeks burned as he looked at me. He has this way of just...making me feel so exposed with just a look.

We talked a while longer and I realized that every time he mentioned his wife, the spark left his eyes. He completely cringed a few times. There were rumors on the fansites, of course, that things weren’t good in their marriage, but I had always dismissed that as thirsty fans with overactive imaginations hoping for discord out of jealousy. “Dean...can I ask…” I shook my head before I could finish the question. “Never mind. It’s dumb.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and leaned closer to me, not that there was much room to do that with how close our chairs were. “What’s dumb?”

I scratched the back of my neck and avoided looking at his face as I asked, “Well, it’s just...you don’t seem very happy with Lisa. All the things you’ve said about her have been kinda negative. I just was wonderin’ if...if you guys are okay, I guess.”

He dragged his hand across his mouth and sat back. “Honestly?”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to answer.”

“I don’t think she ever loved me,” was not the answer I was expecting. He took a deep breath and tapped his fingers against the table. “She likes the trappings of fame, though, and _loves_ my money, but we can barely stand to be in the same room anymore these days.”

“Ha-have you talked to someone? A couple’s therapist? Or a...a priest or-”

“Yeah, I don’t go in for all that organized religion shit, but...we been to a shrink,” he answered, reaching out to pick up his drink again. “Whenever I’m in Austin, we see this...short, grey-haired lady who takes hundreds of dollars a session to agree with Lisa on everything and tell me how everything’s all my fault.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, it doesn’t, does it? Considering I work my ass off to be present when I’m there, I do whatever I can to make her happy and take care of Ben. But I’m gone so much that it’s all gotta be my fault, right?” he said bitterly.

“That’s just not right. She should put some effort in, too.”

He shrugged. “Not according to our counsellor. At this point...I think I’m just stayin’ with her to save Ben from a nasty divorce.”

Ben. His stepson. I think the boy was maybe two years old when Lisa and Dean got married. Dean was the only father Ben had ever known, so I understood why Dean would want to spare him.

It was sad. Dean’s too good of a man to feel stuck in a marriage with a woman who didn’t respect and love him. He’s more than just a bank account.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” I said, quietly.

“It’s not your fault. It’s fine.” A familiar song came on over the karaoke speaker and Dean instantly smiled. “Oh, let’s see how they pull this off,” he said as ‘In Theory’ started playing. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t the best performance of the song. What did surprise me was when Dean got up and walked over to the KJ booth and leaned over to talk to the woman running the show. She immediately started to fangirl over him and he posed for a selfie with her before she handed him two microphones and he walked over to me. “Come on.”

“I’m not doing karaoke,” I said.

“Yes, you are. Come on, you thought you weren’t getting on stage with us a few months ago, too, but you were wrong. We’re doin’ Leather and Lace, let’s go.”

“R-really? You want to sing-”

“Yeah, let’s do something pretty. Let’s go,” he said, forcing a microphone into my hand and grabbing my elbow. “Always making me force you into doin’ stuff,” he bitched under his breath.

The music started up almost immediately as soon as we got to the stage. I took a deep breath and focused on the screen. “ _Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow. Shatter with words impossible to follow. You sayin’ I’m fragile, try not to be. I search only for something I can’t see. I have my own life. And I am stronger than you know._ ” I looked over at Dean and he was...just smiling at me as I sang Stevie Nicks’ song. “ _But I carry this feeling. When you walked into my house. That you won’t be walking out the door._ ”

When I got to “ _Lovers forever, face to face_ ,” his eyes sparkled and my throat got all tight. I almost didn’t make it through _“I need you to love me. I need you today,_ ” because he just had this look on his face.

A look that didn’t go away when he started singing Don Henley’s part. No, he just got closer to me, eyes sparkling, that look on his face as he sang about moonlight and never leaving and getting by because he had someone to light his nights.

I missed my cue for the second chorus and he smirked just like he did when he teased me about my reaction to his shirtlessness on the Skype calls as he pointed at the screen. I was burning hot with embarrassment by the time we got to the end of the song and I handed him the mic before rushing off the stage.

I pushed my way out to the parking lot and found his car. I leaned my elbows on the trunk of his baby and buried my face in my hands. That was worse than flirting with me. That was...what was that look?

“Hey. What’d you run out for?” His voice made me jump and I looked up at him as he approached. “We barely finished the song. I was gonna have her load up another one!”

“Other people were waiting for their chance to sing, Dean.”

“Yeah, but the chick in the booth is a fan. She woulda let us keep singing.”

“I didn’t _want_ to sing.” I took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Can you take me home now? I’m kinda exhausted.”

“You’re not exhausted.” He stepped closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “You think I’m fuckin’ with you again, like you got all upset about a couple weeks ago.” I didn’t answer, just looking up into his eyes. “Ya know, I had to get in front of you to make sure what I was feeling was right, but I _was_ right. You don’t make me feel like you’re around me because you’re tryin’ to get somethin’ outta me. You wanna know me. You respect me and like me for who I really am. You want good things for me, not the good things I can give you. I haven’t felt like that with anyone in _years_. This isn’t a tease. I’m not fuckin’ with you and I never have. I want you, Y/n.”

For some reason, tears popped up in my eyes. I don’t know if I was just overwhelmed or if I was sad because I knew I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. I wanted to say ‘I want you, too.’ but I couldn’t say that. “Dean. I do wanna know you and I respect the hell outta you and that’s why...that’s why I can’t.” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “You’re married, Dean.”

“We’re practically divorced already, Y/n. Sleepin’ in separate rooms, talking mostly through messages, we-”

“Well, ‘practically’ isn’t divorced enough,” I said, stepping back from him. “I can’t be the other woman.”

His jaw tightened as he shook his head in irritation. “There are _thousands_ of women out there who’d love to be my other woman. If you think I’m gonna sit around and wait on you, you got another thing comin’, sweetheart,” he snapped. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Dean Winchester is a rock star...and sometimes, he says something condescending like that.

I swallowed down the ball of emotion in my throat and nodded at him. “You go right ahead and find one of those thousands of women, Dean. I’m sure you’ll feel real _respected_ when you’re done cheating on your wife with them,” I said, sneering. “Go back inside. I’m sure there’s a few of ‘em right in that bar. As for me, I’m your _friend_ and I’m going home.”

There was a taxi parked on the street, waiting for drunk college students to save from a DUI, so I stomped over to it. Dean just watched as I got in and the cab took off.


	4. Studio Time

**Summary** : Y/n has to be the bigger woman, but that doesn't mean Dean's giving up on her music career

**Story Warnings** : some light drinking, some self esteem issues, some flirting and junk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe I said ‘no’.

Dean Winchester, rock god, propositioned Chunk Y/l/n and I said ‘no’. What kind of idiot am I? I’m never gonna see him again, I know it. He’s gonna go back to Texas and I’m never going to see him again. I can’t...I can’t believe I told him ‘no’! Why am I so stupid?! Why did I have to be noble? Why couldn’t I, just once, make a dumbass, selfish choice that would have hurt everyone involved but given me a night of happiness that I could treasure forever?

I’m so stupid.

I paced in my room, trying to hold onto the angry feeling I had in the parking lot of the bar, but I couldn’t. I just felt sad. I probably threw away our friendship, too, and my chance at making that album with those songs we were writing. Because I refused to be the woman he cheated on his wife with. I’m an idiot.

I didn’t sleep very good that night. I tossed and turned, thought about the hundred things I should have said...namely ‘yes’. I should have said ‘yes’. I stayed in bed until after noon. I wasn’t hungry, so breakfast didn’t call to me. It wasn’t until after my dormmates got back from late lunch that I got out of bed and got a pack of ramen...which I ate dry. I went back to my bed after that.

It was about 7:30 when I heard the commotion in the common room. It was ten minutes later when a knock came to my door. “Go away,” I yelled, turning over away from the door.

“I’m gonna get mauled by your classmates if you don’t let me in,” Dean’s voice filtered through the wood. I gasped and turned back over. “Seriously, kid. Come let me in.”

I rolled out of bed and rushed to the door, unlocking it and letting him in. He stepped inside and looked around the room as I shut the door against the onlooking classmates. “Well, that’s gonna be across campus in all of two minutes,” I whispered, leaning back against the door. I sighed and rubbed at my eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed of the dirty clothes on my floor. “I figured you went home.”

“I was gonna, honestly. I was gonna get in my car and drive right back to Austin, but I was drinking and I didn’t want to end up on TMZ gettin’ pulled over for a DWI.” He sighed and took a seat on the edge of my bed. “So, I got a hotel room and more alcohol. And I broke a chair and a TV and I had three noise complaints from other guests because I was so pissed off at you. I mean, seriously! Where do you get off rejecting _me_?”

I bit my tongue and swallowed as he looked over at me. “But the more I thought about it and the more I...broke shit, the more I realized…” He scoffed and stood, smirking. “I’m an _asshole_.” He chuckled and stepped closer to me. “I never should’ve put you in that position, kid. You were absolutely right to-to stand your ground and tell me to kiss your ass.”

“I didn’t say-” I started to argue.

“Subtext,” he interrupted with a smile. “Shit, you were right. You were right and I was a dick. I said...What I said was inexcusable and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

“No, it’s not. You are a completely, legitimately _good_ woman and I am a dick who does not deserve your forgiveness...even though I’m askin’ for it,” he said, biting his lip and looking a bit sheepish.

“How could I say ‘no’ to that?” I chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “I’m obviously better at ‘no’ than you’re used to, though, aren’t I?”

He ran his hand through his hair and nodded. “I’ll be honest, it’s not a word I hear often these days...and that’s kinda awesome, actually.” I walked over and sat in my desk chair, picking up my guitar and looking up at him. He sat back on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. “I want you to know...I’ve never cheated on Lisa. Never really wanted to until I met you...and the fact that you wouldn’t _let_ me...you’re too good for me. You’re a good friend and if that’s all you ever are for me...I’ma appreciate the hell out of you, Y/n. I-I do appreciate the hell outta you. Thank you.”

My cheeks started burning at that and I had to look away from him. “Thank you.”

He smirked and ran his hands down his thighs. “So, what do you think of ordering a pizza and working on some music?” he asked, licking his lips. “I wanna get you in a studio while you’re on break.”

My eyes went wide and I looked back to him. “What? But...really?”

“Yeah! I can get you time at Unlabeled Music across the line. We’ve gotten through enough to put together an EP, get your sound out there...get you out there.” He reached out and picked up my guitar, pulling it across his lap. “What do you say?”

“Okay. But you’re paying for the studio time...because I’m a poor college student and there’s no way I can afford it on my own.”

“Oh, that’s a given, kid.” He smiled as he started strumming his fingers over the strings. “And I’ve had my guy talk to the bigwigs at Reprise and they’re interested in signing you…’course that’ll be after we get something recorded, ya know?”

“Y-you...R-reprise is...that’s a major label, Dean.”

He nodded and looked over at me. “Yeah. I mean, I talked to Sam about gettin’ you on with Hunter Family Records, but since Lisa’s a co-owner, we decided that would be a bad idea.”

For some reason it surprised me that Dean talked about me to Sam. Especially after the way he flirted with me, I assumed I was a dirty little secret or something. “Why would it be a bad idea? Lisa doesn’t know you’ve been flirting with me, does she?”

“Yes and no.” He leaned on the guitar and sighed. “She watched the videos...she saw how I looked at you when we were on stage together. I think she knew I…” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “She went off for three days about you. It’s...it’s why I didn’t call you until after I got home.”

“So that she knew you were...home? Faithful?” He shrugged in response. “And you stay home all of six weeks before you come seek me out?”

“It was cold back home. Thought I’d let your smile warm me.”

“And where does your wife think you are?” I asked.

“Took a drive to clear my head,” he said before shrugging. “It’s not a lie.” He looked away from me and licked his lips. “Just really wanted to see you, ya know...face to face.” My cheeks heated up and my throat went dry and he just smiled. “‘Cause your eyes don’t shine like that through Skype.”

“Dean, you can’t-” I started but he shook his head.

“If you think I’m gonna stop flirting now that I’ve made it blatantly obvious that I want you, you’re kinda ridiculous, you know that?”

“It’s just…” I sighed and cleared my throat. “It makes it hard for me to...be the...good woman.”

“Shit, that makes me wanna turn up the charm more, Y/n.” He set the guitar aside and stood, leaning over me to whisper next to my ear. “But I like that you’re a good woman.” His lips brushed my earlobe and a shiver went straight down my spine. “So, I’ll be a better man and back off a bit.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and I don’t even know if I said it loud enough for him to hear.

He smirked as he leaned away from me and winked. “Order us a pizza, kid. Let’s make sure we’re golden for Thursday. These songs need to be perfect if we’re offerin’ ‘em to the label.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was nervous standing in the recording booth. Dean was on the other side of the window in the control room. He smiled at me, nodded reassuringly. Before I walked into the booth, he hugged me, told me “You got this, kid. You can do this.”

I sighed and adjusted the headphones on my head.

See, music...music is...magic. Even though I’ve devoted myself to science...even though I’m a college-educated woman who doesn’t believe in the supernatural...music is magic. Music is transformative. Music is perfection. Creating music is like a power trip.

Dean got this look on his face when I was singing and it was beautiful. I went through those six songs over and over. My throat was burning by the time he opened the booth and told me to take a break. He handed me a bottle of water and leaned against the door. “You look so right in here,” he said, smiling fondly.

I shook my head and took a drink of water. “I feel wrong.”

“No, you don’t,” he argued. “You act like I can’t see you when you’re singing. You’re lovin’ this.”

“Of course I am!” I exclaimed, laughing. “But...I dunno. Just seems like…I’m not supposed to be here, ya know?”

“You gotta get over that, kid.” He stepped closer, kneeling down in front of me and looking up into my eyes. “You belong here. I know it. I’m not a smart guy. There’s not a lot I _do_ know...but I know music. I know the feeling you get when you sing. I saw it in the tent. I saw it on the stage. It’s like there’s...magic flowing through your veins, right?” I swallowed and nodded. Took the words right out of my brain. “You’re supposed to be here. You’ve already got the magic in your veins, Y/n. Gotta let it flow.”

He smiled as he leaned up and cupped my cheek. “I really wanna kiss you right now. Thought you should know,” he whispered before standing and grabbing the water bottle from my hand. “Let’s run through ‘Soft-hearted’ again.”

I sighed. ‘Soft-hearted’. One of the first ones we wrote...so much pining and heartache in four minutes. It’s a perfect combination of trying to keep our distance and knowing that we’re better for each other than anything we’ve had in the past.

He counted me in from the control room and I took a deep breath...and let the magic flow.

_I’ve had pain_

_I’ve had heartache_

_I’ve played the game_

_And took from it what I could take_

_I’ve given up_

_I’ve let the pain_

_Kill off the hope in me_

_But now I see_

_That to try_

_Just makes life seem harder_

_But to run_

_Just builds a wall_

_And when you cry_

_It makes your heart softer_

_But a hard heart_

_Can never fall_

_So I’ll never fall_

_Your green eyes_

_Pierced into my soul_

_But I didn’t know_

_Like you didn’t know_

_And you made things good_

_Like I never thought you could_

_But you didn’t know_

_Like I didn’t know_

_That to try_

_Just makes life seem harder_

_But to run_

_Just builds a wall_

_And when you cry_

_It makes your heart softer_

_But a hard heart_

_Can never fall_

_So you’ll never fall_

_And now I’m lyin’ here_

_Thinkin’ how you changed my life_

_And you don’t know_

_And that cuts me like a knife_

_And every time I try to tell you_

_I’m paralyzed by fear_

_Don’t try talkin’ to my heart, boy_

_Cause she ain’t livin’ here_

_And to try_

_Just makes life seem harder_

_But to run_

_Just builds a wall_

_And when you cry_

_It makes your heart softer_

_But a hard heart_

_Can never fall_

_So we’ll never fall_

I looked through the window at him and gasped at the way he was biting his bottom lip. He nodded and mouthed ‘perfect’ at me.

Perfect. Something I did was perfect. Wow.

It took a couple days, but Dean brought me a CD with my picture on the cover. My name. Our song titles on the back, our names on the writer credits. We made an album together. Dean and I created something together.

“You can keep that one. I already sent a copy to Reprise,” Dean said, plopping down on the desk chair. “Go ahead and get that in your laptop so you can hear it.”

I put the cd in the tray and let it start playing. It sounded...amazing. I sounded amazing.

"What happens if Reprise signs me?" I asked as Dean and I listened.

"Then you become a public asset instead of a private one. Everything goes under a microscope. But then...you get to share your music with everyone. You get to write more."

"I get to hear from a few thousand people every day how I'm too big to be famous." I looked down at my lap.

“Fuck ‘em. I’ve had these vultures pickin’ at me for years. They don’t deserve your attention.”

“But they _will_ tell me to lose weight, won’t they? Not just the label or the people who decide my image, but the magazines, the ‘fans’, the trolls online, the-” He was suddenly next to me, holding my hand.

“People are going to say things...but people said things about your weight _before_ you were a star, right? Now, you’re gonna know that you’re more successful, smarter, more beautiful...now, when the idiots call you nasty names, you’re gonna know that I’ve got your back...okay?”

I looked up into his eyes and everything just fell away. It felt like I could handle anything. It felt like everything was going to work out. “Okay,” I whispered, nodding.

“I want you to come on a little discovery tour with me,” he said, quietly.

“A what?”

“A couple shows...small venues, bars and nightclubs...get your name out there, get you used to the stage...I know a couple club owners in Fort Worth and Austin, a few in Lawrence and Wichita and Tulsa...I could make some calls."

"But classes start up again soon, Dean. I don't have time for-"

"I know this is gonna piss you off, but I think you should take a semester off." I opened my mouth to argue but he shook his head and tightened his grip on my hand. "Look, this is a limited-opportunity window, kid. And if you get signed, get famous, get networked in...you could afford a better college, one good enough for you. Where'd you get in that you couldn't afford?"

"Northwestern...even with financial aid and scholarships...I couldn't even come close."

"What's that? Forty thousand a year?" he asked.

"Closer to fifty-five...and that's before books, housing, food. I could never-"

"You _could_ ," Dean interrupted, reaching out to pick up the empty CD case. "This is how you could. This is how everyone gets what they want, Y/n. I get you, you get to science, we both get to music! All it takes is a little break to earn the capital to put you where you belong. You don't belong in this little college."

“I don’t know if I’d be able to balance-”

“You know Ke$ha audits courses at, like, Harvard, right?” he interrupted. “If she can balance, you can.”

“You know she’s an actual genius under that party-girl glamour-grunge disguise, right?”

“And you’re _not_?” he challenged, raising his eyebrow at me.

I sighed and looked down at the case...the thing we created together. The thing that could create a whole new life for me...a life that included Northwestern University...and a _lot_ more Dean Winchester. I bit my bottom lip and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it. But this is gonna...I’m gonna have to move and I’m gonna have to-”

“We’ll put all your furniture and stuff in storage. You’ll be stayin’ in hotels while we’re on the road, anyway,” Dean said, smiling brightly. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my cheek before standing. “I’ma start makin’ calls. Start with a moving service,” he finished, mostly to himself.

I just watched as he walked away, pulling his cell phone out. I couldn’t help the way I raised my hand to my cheek where he kissed me. All I could think was how much trouble I was in.


	5. The Big D

**Author’s Note** : It’s the fifth chapter of my slow burn Rockstar AU! Enjoy! **_The lyrics within are mine._**

**Summary** : Dean takes Y/n on a little tour to get her name out there.

**Story Warnings** : some drinking, some self esteem issues, some flirting and junk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look at that. Your first marquee," Dean said, pointing to a sign outside of a nightclub in Wichita. The sign said **DEAN WINCHESTER PRESENTS Y/N Y/L/N** and I know that most of the people showing up that night were gonna be there for a glimpse at him, but...there was my name. “You excited?”

“Yeah. Nervous, but definitely excited.”

“Well, I’ll be on stage with you the whole time. I’ll be on the drums, right behind you.” I nodded, taking a deep breath as he pulled in behind the big black Chevy Astro carrying the equipment. I recognized the guy unloading the van immediately. Dean looked over at me and smiled. “You remember Benny, right?”

I nodded as we both moved to get out of the Impala. “Of course I remember Benny!”

“He’s your roadie slash bass player for this little tour,” Dean said, pulling Benny into a hug.

“Oh, so we’re a three-piece!” I exclaimed. “I thought it was just gonna be guitar and drums!”

“When BBD started, there were three of us. That’s a good starting sound. And Benny is a badass on the strings. He just doesn’t wanna be on the big stage.”

“You already got a bass player, Dean. I don’t think the fans would like you replacing your bruddah wit’ you buddy.”

“Well, at least I got you to agree to this,” Dean said, smiling. “Four shows in four cities in two weeks! Let’s do this shit!”

I laughed as he grabbed a guitar case. “Gimme that. Grab an amp, Mr. Muscles,” I said, pulling the guitar out of his hand.

“Listen to her, acting like she’s in charge,” he said, chuckling as he leaned into the van and grabbed a small amp.

“It _is_ her tour, ain’ it?”

“Yeah, well, it’s ‘Dean Winchester presents’ her tour so-” He started walking toward the loading door and Benny and I followed. “And besides, she barely wanted this tour. I had to convince her, didn’t I, princess?” My cheeks got hot but I didn’t respond, focusing on following him into my first venue.

“Dean!” a happy voice screeched as a skinny blond threw herself at him. He had just enough time to set the amp down before her arms were around his neck and her feet were in the air. “Mama told me you’d be comin’ but I didn’t think I’d get to see you!”

“Come on, Jo, you know I’d find a reason to see you!” Dean said, a bit muffled by her shoulder in his face.

She pulled back and put her hands on her hips. “Well, you haven’t the last three times you been in town,” she snapped.

“Well, the last couple times I’ve been here, it’s been BBD tours, stadium tours. I didn’t have time to stop into the Roadhouse. I’m sorry. Been busy, kid.” He cleared his throat and reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. “Jo, this is your headliner for tonight, Y/n. Y/n, this is Jo Harvelle, her mother owns the Roadhouse.”

“Nice to meet’cha,” Jo said, offering her hand, which I took. “I’ve known this big idiot since I was a teenager. It’s good to see him finally put a woman in the spotlight.”

“I told you, Jo...if you could sing-”

“I can sing just fine!” she shrieked.

Dean shook his head and laughed. “No, sweetheart, you _can’t_. After you hear Y/n, you’ll recognize what good sounds like.” My face went hot at the praise and I turned to distract myself with Benny, but he was already out the door to get more equipment. “Did you listen to the song I sent your mom?”

“Yeah! She’s good! I could hear _you_ in some’a them lyrics, though!”

“Well, we wrote the songs together, so of course you did,” he said, turning to me with a smile. “She’s real nervous, can you tell?”

“She got’chu to get her through, Dean. Now, stop flirtin’ with Jo and help me get the stage set up,” Benny said, coming in with part of the drum set.

“Why don’t you go get set up in the back room? Change your clothes, do your makeup, all that shit?” Dean suggested and I nodded.

“I’ll show you where, sweetie.” Jo took my arm and guided me down a hallway to a small room with a lot of lighting and a small vanity. “He talks highly of you,” she said as I pulled my bag off and set it on the chair. She almost sounded jealous.

“Oh. He’s just being nice,” I covered. She didn’t need to know that he’d been flirting and tried to get me to sleep with him. No one needed to know that.

“Well, if he’s just bein’ nice, then why do his eyes get all shiny when he’s talkin’ about you?”

She didn’t give me a chance to respond to that one, slipping out of the dressing room and closing the door behind her.

My stomach was in knots as I got ready, putting on my best outfit and messing with my hair, trying to figure out the appropriate amount of makeup for a Rock n’ Roll debut, while going through lyrics and chords in my head, terrified of fucking up my own songs at my first ever show.

“You’re not gonna fuck up,” Dean said, walking into the dressing room and dropping his own bag on the chair next to mine. I looked up at him, surprised he knew what I was thinking. “I can hear you worrying from the stage,” he answered, unzipping his bag and pulling out a CBGB shirt. “And if you _do_ fuck up, which you won’t, you just keep going. Rockers forget lyrics and chords all the time, Y/n. Look at, uh, look at Green Day. Mike Dirnt was so high when he wrote the bass lick for Longview that he forgot it, had to rewrite the whole thing. Billie Joe fucked up the beginning of Good Riddance and left it on the album because fucking up is quintessential Rock. Don’t worry about fucking up. Just have fun.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, fucking up is-” I started to coach myself, but Dean pulled his shirt off over his head and I lost my train of thought. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I made myself look away as he pulled the clean shirt over his head. “Fucking up is normal,” I finished, focusing on my makeup in the mirror.

“Go crazy with the black eyeliner, kid. It’ll make your eyes pop,” he said, pulling out an eyeliner pencil and starting to apply his own.

“They’ll literally _never_ look as good as yours.” I tried, though. Had to try.

“Listen, you’re gonna do awesome. Remember how nervous you were before you got up on stage with us the first time?” he asked, sitting on the arm of my chair and looking down at me. “You thought you were gonna mess up our show and you didn’t. You took us to new levels, princess. You’re gonna fucking rock this.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Dean.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get this going,” he winked at me before heading out of the dressing room.

Benny took me to wait in the area behind the stage and stood with me as Dean took the stage for a bunch of screaming fans. His fans, but...maybe soon to be mine, too?

“Oh, shit, they got a lot’a y’all in here, didn’t they? Don’t anybody call the fire marshall, we’re gonna get shut down,” he greeted them with a laugh. “I’m so fuckin’ happy you guys showed up! I don’t know if any of you were at the Kansas City show a few months back, but we had a special guest that night and I’m tellin’ ya, she has a big future in Rock and you guys are getting in on the ground fuckin’ floor! She’s a little on the softer end of the Rock spectrum, a bit more soapstone than granite, but that’s okay! We’re sure you’re gonna love her any-fuckin’-way! I sure do. Give my girl a big round of applause; Y/n Y/l/n!”

There were so many people. Not as many as at the BBD show, but still...so many people. There to see me. Dean patted my shoulder and headed for the drumset as Benny walked on and picked up the bass. I made a show of stepping out of the way of the drumset, moving the microphone stand over. “That’s better, right? Everyone can see Dean now, right?” I said into the mic. “I mean, be honest, y’all aren’t here for me. You’re here for his pretty face.” The audience laughed and I smiled, turning back to him. “And you guys are lucky. You’re about to hear a side of Dean Winchester that most people don’t know exists. He wrote these, I just played ‘Bottom of the Pyramid’ cheerleader for him.”

“One, that’s a lie!” he said into his microphone. “You had just as much hand in these songs as I did, princess, and B, no fat jokes!”

“Says the man whose only flaw is his bowlegs,” I said, smirking as the audience laughed again. Banter, I can do. "No, he's right. I did some of the work on the EP so I do have a bit of bragging rights here. So we’re happy to present some love songs!”

“Nonono, Dean Winchester doesn’t write love songs!” he disputed from behind me and I groaned dramatically.

“ _Fine_! Songs about love, not love songs,” I acquiesced before he counted us in for a song called ‘Bad 4 Me’.

It was easy...and I didn't fuck up. I got us through those six songs like I'd done it a million times before. And they cheered, they liked it. It was easy...and I loved it.

Dean wouldn't let me help with the breakdown after. Jo handed me a bottle of whiskey and sent me back to the dressing room. I had a few sips while I waited, called my parents to tell them how amazing my first show was, searched Twitter for 280 character reviews of my performance. Mostly positive. Wow.

"You said you love me," I said when Dean walked in. I was a little tipsy, I'm not gonna lie. A little tipsy and a lot high on the adrenaline of the night.

"Did I?" he asked, flopping down on the little loveseat sofa with me and picking up the bottle from between my legs where I was holding it still. “When’d I do that?”

“When you were intro-ing me. You said that they were gonna love me ‘cause you do,” I said, giggling.

“Shit, you are a happy, cute, little drunk, aren’t you?” he said, smirking as he took a drink of the whiskey. He bit his bottom lip as he looked over at me. “Yeah, I said that...and they fuckin’ loved you, didn’t they?” His voice went husky and my throat went dry at the way he was looking at me. “Fuckin’ natural-born rock star.”

I looked away and shook my head. “Bad idea,” I whispered.

“What is?” he asked, pushing the whiskey bottle back between my legs and holding it against the seam of my jeans.

“Drinking. Drink was a bad idea,” I whispered as he leaned closer to my ear. I had to tell myself to stay strong, stay good, don’t give in to the fact that he had a bottle pressing against a very intimate part of me. “You’re too close, Dean.”

“You’re right. Too close. I should back off,” he said, letting go of the bottle and setting his hand on my thigh. “Can’t take advantage of your mental state. You’re drunk.”

“Right.” I cleared my throat and stood, taking a deep breath. “Hotel?”

He chuckled and stood. “Yeah. Let’s get some rest, rock star.”

“ _You_ are,” was the only retort I had. Yeah. I’m a scientist, y’all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I avoided drinking the next two weeks of traveling with Dean and Benny. It was too tempting for both of us to do the wrong thing if we lowered our inhibitions. But we had fun. We traveled from Kansas to Oklahoma to Texas and the people who saw us perform, they loved it. They loved our music, they loved my voice. There were mentions of my weight, of course, but most people didn’t even care. It was amazing.

The club in Austin was big, the biggest club I’d ever seen, let alone played. Dean and I were in the back, playing guitar and warming our vocal cords up, when a knock came to the door. “Yeah?” Dean called, setting his acoustic aside.

“We got a problem, bruddah,” Benny said, opening the door and stepping inside. “Lisa here.”

My eyes went wide. Dean said she wasn’t going to give a damn about what he was doing, in their hometown or not. “Where?”

“At the bar wit’ a martini an’ a pissed off look on ‘er face. She waitin’ on you...an’ she wanna talk to Y/n, too.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t talk to her. Dean could see the panic in my eyes, so he patted my knee and stood. “I’ll talk to her. You don’t have to say a thing...but if you wanted to come with me…”

“Not especially.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Gotta love your honesty.” He slipped out of the room and left me and Benny behind.

“It’s never good when she show up,” Benny said. “An’ she on her jealousy today.”

“Jealousy?” I asked.

“Yeah. She ask me about you. She wanna know if you an’ Dean been sleepin’ together.”

“We haven’t!” I exclaimed.

“I tol’ her!” Benny assured me. “Tol’ her I been sharin’ a hotel room with ‘im an’ you been in your own the whole time. Don’ worry, you.”

I let out a sigh of relief and ran my hand down my face. “God, this is so stupid.”

“‘Bout time for him ta serve ‘er papers. They been on the outs for years,” Benny said, sitting backwards in a chair and looking at me. “He’s afraid’a losin’ that boy, but he don’t got him at this point, anyway.” I nodded. “An’ Lisa been a bitch since the day he met her...never did understand why he married ‘er.”

I swallowed and started to leave. “I think he might need a little backup.” I made my way down the halls to the bar. Dean was sitting on a bar stool next to a brunette, leaning close, a beer on the bartop in front of him. I’d seen pictures of her before and I knew she was tall and thin, sexy and gorgeous. If she weren’t such a bitch, I’d say she was exactly what he deserved.

“I swear to fuckin’ _God_ , Lisa, if you say some shit like that again-” Dean practically growled at her.

“You really didn’t think I’d notice, Dean?! You practically declared your love for that fatass hussy in Wichita! You think I wouldn’t see the video? See how you looked at her the whole time she’s singing songs you wrote about being unable to have her? I told you, after your little stunt putting her onstage in Kansas City, that I was _not_ okay with-”

A flash of rage rushed over me at her words. ‘Fatass’ maybe, but ‘hussy’? I am not and never have been a hussy.

“She’s not a hussy, you stupid cunt, and she might be bigger than your stick-figure ass, but at least she’s not a money-grubbing whore!” Dean snapped. He scoffed and clenched his fists. “You know, you are the absolute worst woman I have ever met and I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize that.”

“Dean, please. You wanna talk about ‘the worst’? How about-”

“No, I don’t wanna talk about anything with you, Lisa. We’ve talked ourselves round and round in circles and everything is my fault and you hate everything I do, so why don’t we just end it, huh?” He picked up his beer and dropped his feet off of the bar stool. “I want a divorce.”

“Dean!” she exclaimed, obviously not expecting that answer from him. “You can’t-”

“I _can_...and you know what? I’m glad I didn’t sleep with Y/n. I would hate for you to get anything outta that prenup.”

“What about _Ben_?” she bellowed.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped away from her, finally noticing me in the hallway. “I’ll take care’a Ben. But I’m done financing _you_.” He walked over to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Now, get the hell outta here...you’re putting my girl off her game.”

“Did you really just do that?” I whispered as he walked us back toward the dressing room.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for months...it’s best for everyone.” He pushed me lightly into the wall outside the dressing room and ran his knuckles down my cheek. “And the sooner I go from ‘Practically divorced’ to ‘Actually divorced’, the sooner I can kiss you.”

“You’re gonna-” I started but he just smiled. “I can’t believe you’re really going to--I don’t--”

“Look, kid, you’re not the reason, but you are a light at the end of a very dark tunnel...and I don’t wanna wait anymore. Benny told me I shoulda filed the minute I started fantasizing about you...and he is right...because if I’d done that, we could be having sex after the shows instead of going straight to sleep like old people.”

“Not ‘old people’, responsible college students,” I said, pointing to myself.

He chuckled and ran his hand up to cup my cheek. “You have no business being so damn cute.” My face heated up at his words and the way he was looking at me. I can’t believe he really-- “Now, let’s go finish gettin’ that pretty voice warmed up.”

We went back to the dressing room, did our trills and hums, and eventually were called to the stage. I stood behind the stage and waited while Dean got up on stage. “Austin! It’s nice to see some friendly faces! You are the last group of lucky motherfuckers who get to see my girl in all her unsigned, Indie glory. After this show, you’re gonna have to pay major label prices to see her…’cause I got a call from Reprise this morning and they’re signing her!”

My eyes went wide. He hadn’t said anything. Reprise wanted me?!

“So, give Y/n a big fuckin’ hand. Me, too, since I discovered her.”

Benny pushed me out onto the stage and I gave Dean an exasperated look. “You didn’t tell me!”

“It was a _surprise_!”

I chuckled and shook my head, picking up a guitar and stepping up to the mic. “Excuse me, guys, I gotta get my head around the fact that Reprise gives a fuck about me. I can’t--wow!” The audience cheered for me and I just chuckled again. “Okay, well, let’s...let’s give these people a show, Dean!”

“Hell yeah!” Dean shouted, counting us into ‘Forbidden’...which was exactly the kind of song his wife was bitching about, with lyrics like ‘ _Forbidden to touch, forbidden to taste, I was that lone apple in the garden, and I know just why you came here, ‘cause I am forbidden’_ it was the most heavily pining song we wrote. No wonder he started our setlist on that one after his confrontation with Lisa.

It was a great show and it was a perfect note to go out on. “Reprise is gonna send someone with a contract on Monday. You ready for this, princess?” he asked as we loaded up the van.

“Are you gonna stick by me?” I asked, leaning against the side of the van.

“Always.” His tone made my knees a little weak.

“Then I’m ready,” I whispered.


	6. Rose Gold and Glitter

**Summary** : Dean and Y/n get her contract signed and meet up with the Image Specialist.

**Story Warnings** : some drinking, some self esteem issues, some flirting and junk, the reader has an enormous amount of inner strength

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wait, a major label is signing you?" my mother screeched when I told her.

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning, they're sending a lawyer with a contract and everything. I'm really nervous."

"Well, your friend won't let them screw you out of anything, right? Dean's got experience with this stuff."

"Yeah. He's gonna help me with it, and he's got a lawyer friend who's gonna look over it before I sign anything. I'm just really nervous. I mean...a month ago, I was nobody.”

“You were never nobody. But it’s natural to be nervous. It’s a big deal!”

“I know it is. It definitely is. That’s why I’m nervous.” I settled back against the headboard of my hotel bed and sighed. “Everything’s just changing so fast.”

“Change is good!”

My mother is always so positive. It’s hard to think about the possible pitfalls when she’s telling me how awesome things are. “I guess it’ll be a good thing when I have some money and can hang out with the beautiful people and all that.”

“You are beautiful,” Mom insisted and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m fat, Mom. How many fat rock stars have you seen? Fat _female_ rock stars,” I clarified.

“You’re still gorgeous!”

No arguing with her. “Yeah. Okay. Look, I’ll call you when I sign.”

“Of course, hon.”

“Bye, Mom,” I said before hanging up. I stood and looked in the mirror. The critics were gonna tear me apart for my weight. “Oh, God, what if someone tells the media my nickname? What if _they_ start calling me ‘Chunk’?”

It was a worse-case scenario that threw me into a horrible spiral of self-doubt...until Dean knocked on my door and invited himself in with a greasy paper sack and a six pack of beer. “I know we agreed not to drink, but I figure we won’t get crazy after a beer or two.” He dropped himself onto my bed and smiled and I just didn’t have it in me to worry anymore. “And I called a lawyer so if we did get crazy, it wouldn’t be the most horrible thing.”

“Dean,” I said, shaking my head. “Can’t think like that. You’re still not divorced. We can’t get crazy.”

“Okay. I get that. Now, eat a burger and have a beer with me.” I sat down as he opened the bag and handed me the greasiest burger I’ve ever seen. “Just to clarify, a little makeout sesh would be crazy?”

“Dean.”

He laughed as I opened the wrapper. “Just checkin’.” He took a big bite of the burger and opened the can of beer one-handed, which was impressive and weird, and drank down a gulp before clearing his throat. “So, Missouri is gonna meet us in the conference room on the second floor tomorrow morning at ten and the guy from Reprise will meet us at ten-thirty."

“Okay…” I set the burger on the wrapper and opened myself a beer. “What happens after I get signed?”

“Well, what happens is you get in to do a full-length album, some more promo, get you some interviews lined up with music blogs and magazines, and...Reprise will want you to meet with an image specialist.” I sighed and bit my lip. I knew they were going to want to change my look, but it still sucked. “They did the same for us. I mean, no one knows what a big nerd Cas is, or what a legitimate sweetheart Garth is. We gotta put on a bit of a mask on. I don’t know what they’ll want from you...I can only hope it won’t be Lady Gaga levels of weird.”

I chuckled. “My luck, it’s gonna be a Sia thing where they never let me show my face.”

“Well, don’t let ‘em do that to you. Your pretty face needs to be seen.” My face heated up and I distracted myself with a drink of beer. “Especially when you look so sexy when you’re feeling shy.”

“I’m _always_ feeling shy.”

“Exactly,” he said, laughing. The man just refused to stop flirting.

“Dean, come on.”

“Baby... _you_ come on.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” I tried to snap...but I couldn’t. I couldn’t be mad about it. He was chipping away at my resolve...and part of me was okay with it. Part of me wanted to fail, because when I finally let it happen, I knew it was going to be amazing and I wanted it. I wanted to fail...and I hated that.

“You like it,” he accused, taking another bite of his burger.

“Yeah,” I responded.

We ate and had our beers and then he grabbed the TV remote and turned it on. He flipped through until I saw a movie I recognized, the 2012 version of Much Ado About Nothing. Dean rolled his eyes but left it there as we settled back against the headboard. “I don’t even know what the hell they’re sayin’,” he grumbled.

“I’ll translate for you,” I chuckled. And I did just that. We sat back and watched the movie and Dean loved the actors in it and I loved explaining the Shakespearean language. Somewhere near the middle of the film, we ended up with his arm wrapped around me and my head on his shoulder. His fingertips were tracing patterns on my bicep for a while and it was so nice. It was amazing and he smelled so good. It felt nice to be so close to him, warm and comfortable in his arms. But then he dropped his hand to my thigh and the warmth became a heat between my legs. I made myself fall asleep on his shoulder before I could do anything stupid about that heat.

I was woken up by Dean tapping my arm. “Hey, it’s morning, baby. You gotta get ready to sign your life away.”’

I groaned as I sat up and stretched. Dean tilted his head to run his eyes down my body. I turned away from him and rolled off the bed, grabbing clothes out of the suitcase near the door and disappearing into the bathroom. “Sorry I fell asleep on you. What time did you make it back to your room?” I called out.

“About five minutes ago. I guess I fell asleep too!”

I stopped midway through putting my shirt on and stared at the door. We slept in the same bed? No way.

I finished getting dressed as fast as possible and opened the door before going to work on my hair and makeup. “So, have you gotten to eat breakfast yet?”

“Not yet. I was gonna call down and get us some steak and eggs...maybe some bacon and french toast...maybe steak and bacon and french toast. I don’t know. I’m really fucking hungry.”

I chuckled. “Maybe you should call for breakfast, then!”

He appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest and accentuating his arms. I swallowed and focused on my reflection. “You should do the blue eyeshadow...with the black eyeliner and the blue mascara. Somethin’ different...and sexy.”

“You gotta stop using that word with me.”

“Why?” He moved into the bathroom and stood behind me, setting his hands on my shoulders and looking in the mirror. “Sexy is a good word for you.” I rolled my eyes, but I grabbed the makeup he suggested and started applying it. “See? Sexy.”

“Oh, shut up. I can’t take much more of this,” I said, laughing. So true. So very, very true.

We ate breakfast and then Dean took me downstairs to the conference room to wait on his lawyer, Missouri. “Baby, don’t be nervous. Missouri’s got you. She’ll make sure.”

“I don’t care if Missouri’s got me. Long as you do,” I responded.

He smiled and reached over to run his hand down my back. “I got you.”

“Better lean back away from that girl unless you already got through those divorce proceedings that just got filed this morning,” a short Black woman said, walking through the door.

Dean smiled and leaned back. “Missouri. Nice to see you.”

“Uh-huh. Hands off until you’re divorced, Dean. I don’t want to have to fight that woman on an infidelity allegation.”

“There’s been no-” I started, but Dean just chuckled.

“Missouri knows. She’s just fuckin’ with us.”

Missouri smiled as I relaxed a bit. “Now, how could I possibly resist, son? Anyway, what do you think Reprise is gonna do with this small-town girl?”

“Clean ‘er up. Dirty ‘er up. Doesn’t really matter. She’ll be fuckin’ amazing no matter what.”

My cheeks burned at his comment. “Shut up.”

“I’m wearin’ ‘er down,” Dean said, smirking like a cocky bastard.

“Well, you’re wearin’ _on_ me, Dean. So, let’s get to business.”

I laughed. “I like her. She doesn’t take your shit.”

“I have to be immune to that charm or I wouldn’t be effective at my job, honey. Now, let’s get ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steak dinner?” Dean asked as we left the conference room. All the papers were signed, all the deals done, I was officially a public commodity.

“It’s one in the afternoon!” I said through a laugh.

“Okay, steak lunch,” Dean said, smirking.

“You had steak and eggs for breakfast,” I said, turning to him. “How am _I_ the fat one here?”

“Hey, bein’ a rockstar is a fat-burning endeavour. You’ll find out. My metabolism is like a racehorse.” He licked his lips as we approached the elevator. “Come on! I wanna celebrate! Let’s go somewhere, do something! Money is no object, princess! You’re on Reprise’s dime now!”

“No. Those dimes are going toward my education, remember?” I hit the button to call the elevator and smiled up at him. “Besides, I have to meet with the Image Specialist tomorrow. I don’t wanna be all bloated and horrible.”

“You’re _never_ horrible. Fine, let’s just...a normal lunch? Sandwiches or somethin’?” he asked, following me onto the elevator.

“I can get behind that. Order in?”

“Only if you want me on your bed with a big meatball sub,” he said and I laughed.

“Lobby, it is,” I said, hitting the button next to the L. I leaned against the railing as the elevator started toward the bottom of the building, looking up at Dean as he smiled down at me. “So, Missouri is handling your divorce, too?”

“Yep. She promises she can get this shit cinched up in a month or two, depending on how hard Lisa’s lawyer fights us.”

“I have a feeling it’ll be pretty hard. She doesn’t seem like she wants to just let you go.”

“Well, that’s not up to her anymore. She had her chance to change...to make things better for us. She put me in a place where I could fall for another chick. Sucks to be her,” Dean said as the doors opened and he strolled out of the elevator, leaving me standing there dumbfounded. “You comin’, kid?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, following him out. He said ‘fall for’...like falling in love. What? No. Not me.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and started toward the parking lot. “I’ma get double cheese.”

“You sure about that?” I asked, poking his belly.

He laughed and curled away from my attack. “You should get double cheese, too.”

“Nah. I _so_ don’t need extra cheese.”

“Live a little, Y/n! You’re a damn rock star now!” He smiled at me and I just...didn’t care if it was a fat-chick thing to go for extra cheese. Hell, I was a damn rock star.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll live a little.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m not sure what I was expecting when Dean drove me to the warehouse, but yards and yards of outfits and accessories in lines of racks was not what I was expecting.

“Hey, Billie!” Dean shouted as we entered and I looked at a rack of clothes much too fucking small for me.

“Winchester.” A taller-than-me Black woman in a brown leather jacket walked up through a line of clothing and smiled. “You know she doesn’t need a chaperone, right?”

“Hey, I just wanna make sure you don’t do somethin’ weird, like a cold-cut dress or something.” Dean smirked as the woman stopped in front of us, her hands on her hips. “Y/n, this is Billie, she’s your Image Specialist.”

“And I had nothing to do with Gaga,” she said, offering her hand for me to shake. I took it with a smile. “Now, obviously, they’re gonna want you to lose some weight, but we’re gonna dress you for your shape until the shape changes. I heard some of your work, watched some of the videos of your stage presence and I think we’re gonna do a bit of ‘good girl glam’ for you,” she said, walking down the racks and waving for us to follow her.

“Uh, g-good girl glam?” I asked.

“Yeah, glitter and shades of pink and purple. You’re sweet, we need to capitalize on that.”

“She’s smart, too! Can we mix some sexy librarian into the image?” Dean asked, following behind me.

“Maybe for a photo shoot or something, but the main presence is gonna be this.” Billie stopped and pulled a pastel pink dress off of the rack to the right and held it up. It was a shimmering chiffon fabric with glitter all across it. “Shoes are over here. You good with heels?”

It was a couple hours of walking racks and holding things up to my body to see if they’d fit and trying on shoes with heels higher than I’ve ever worn. “Okay, so just take these and try them on, send back anything that doesn’t fit, and I’ll put more feelers out to plus-size designers for items that fit the image. You just keep up the ‘good girl’ thing for your interviews and public appearances and it’ll all be good,” Billie said, handing a stack of clothes to Dean and handing a fourth set of glittery heels to you. “Good luck, sugar.”

“Th-thank you, Billie,” I responded, before following Dean out of the warehouse.

“Good Girl Glam.” Dean pursed his lips and nodded in appreciation of the term as he dropped the clothes into the backseat of his car. “I like it. Fits you. Billie’s the best with this shit.”

I climbed into the front seat and looked at the shoes. “I...don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk in these.”

“You’ll learn. You just gotta start slow. You’ll get it eventually.”

I played with the sequins on the shoes as he drove us back to the hotel. It was crazy, but the rose gold and glitter actually really appealed to me in an ‘I would never wear this in my daily life’ kinda way. I actually had a rose gold lipstick somewhere that I bought on a whim but never wore because it didn’t go well with anything I wore. I figured I’d dig it out when I got to the hotel.

“Okay, go try some shit on. We’ll see how good Billie did on your sizes,” Dean demanded with a smile on his face as he flopped down on my bed and turned the TV on.

I went into the bathroom with the pile of clothes and grabbed two of the pairs of heels and I pulled my hair up. I did basic makeup, using the most glittery eyeshadow I had and the rose gold lipstick before turning to the clothes. I went for the flowery, flowing, sparkling pink bodycon dress and the shining pastel purple pumps. I looked at myself in the mirror before I walked out of the bathroom. I didn’t even look like me...but at the same time, I did. I looked like Y/n but Y/n if she had never heard the name ‘Chunk’.

I took a deep breath before I opened the door and stepped out into the room where Dean could see me. I cleared my throat as I ran my hands down the front of my dress. Green eyes jumped from the TV screen to my face, then slid down my body. His jaw actually dropped. Dean Winchester’s jaw dropped. He sat up and kicked his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “You look…” He shook his head and stepped closer. “You’re...fuck.”

“That was almost a sentence,” I said, biting my bottom lip as my cheeks started burning. “You like it?”

“Y-yeah. You look real good. And those extra five inches put you...at a real good height. Don’t even have to bend much to…” He leaned forward a little, his lips right next to my ear. “...whisper in your ear.”

I held back the whimper that wanted to let itself out of my throat, but I had to grab his shoulders as I started to sway on the heels. “I like when you whisper in my ear,” I said, quietly.

“Me too. Can’t wait until you let me whisper all the things I want to whisper.”

A jolt of arousal rushed through me at the sound of his voice. “Soon, Dean. Just...gotta wait ‘til you don’t have a wife anymore,” I responded, a bit breathless. He groaned and started to lean back but I pressed my lips to his cheek in an attempt to ease some of our mutual tension.

He leaned back and looked into my eyes, my lipstick shining in a perfect rose gold lip print on his freckled cheek. He licked his lips and searched me for a moment before he sighed. “I’m sorry, I _have_ to,” he whispered before dropping his hands to my hips and leaning back down to press his lips to mine. He pulled me against him and the hands I had holding his shoulders went up around the back of his neck to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. It was...perfect. His lips were plump and soft. His hands were big and warm and comfortable on my hips. He tasted so good on my tongue when our lips parted and our tongues touched. But it wasn’t right.

I pulled back and he tried to follow until I slid my hands to his chest and forced him to keep his distance. “You should go sit back down. I’m gonna go try some more clothes.”

He nodded and wiped my lipstick off of his lips as he stepped backward and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“It’s...I get it. I’m gonna go...change,” I said, pointing at the door to the bathroom. I shut the door and looked at myself in the mirror. Turning him down was getting harder and harder, but...I felt proud that I could still say ‘no’, stick to my guns despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to throw my morals out the window and do the stupid thing. Maybe I could handle this. Maybe not. Either way...I wasn’t going to break that day.


End file.
